Morsmordre
by cruciodarling
Summary: "You must learn to trust no one, miss Potter." ...Rosalie Potter Book 1
1. The Past (Prologue)

_Three years ago I believed my younger brother was dead._

 _"The Chosen One," prophesied to survive the Unforgivable Killing curse as a child - one cast by none other than the darkest wizard of our time- and destroy him. A rumor that soared around during 1981 which attracted the attention of Lord Voldemort, leading to the death of the Potter family - my family._

 _What brought the demise to the core of wizard gossip was when I was the only one found at the scene. I could remember it as if it had happened yesterday... My father pushing me into the closet to hide me as I pleaded him to tell me what was wrong. Mother was crying, cradling my baby brother in her arms and trying to lock herself in the bedroom. I'd peeked from the spots through the closet door and sobbed into my hand, practically blinded by the repetitive green flashes and the piercing cries. I could do nothing about it. I'd woken in the arms of a man cloaked in black, his cheeks stained with tears and his eyes glistening with a dark sorrow, carrying me away from Godric's Hollow. The same man looked at me with remorse once I'd regained consciousness and uttered the words, "They're gone."_

 _Words I had believed ever since._

 _Although the prophecy was deemed a hoax and a tragedy, although my brother had never been sighted and had become nothing but a forgotten tale, although the stranger and the trustworthy alike claimed him dead, my visions were clouded by one thing and one thing only - a young boy as thin as a stick with raven hair, round glasses, and piercing eyes colored like grass after a rainstorm. A young boy who was the spitting image of my father. These were things I couldn't tell my caretakers, the Weasley family, who had been entrusted with my care by the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore. These were things I couldn't share with the Headmaster himself, or with the man who rescued me that night. They were my mind's escape to a world where my brother was beside me._

 _The realization had struck during the summer of 1991 that hadn't it been for that tragedy, my brother would've been starting his first year at the magic school. I could picture an excited Harry dragging our parents through the brick wall between Platforms 9 and 10 in Kings Cross. I could picture him with his Gryffindor robes, chattering amongst housemates in the common room at night, riding the wind on his broomstick in his team jersey to give pride to his father. Was my mind purely torturing me by reminding me of what my brother, Harry Potter, could've become? Was it reminding me of a great loss to constrict me in the past and stop me from moving on with the present?_

 _No matter the never ending pain it brought, I had been certain that he was gone._

 _There was absolutely no way that Harry Potter could've survived._

* * *

 _"Well someone's in a chirpy mood," An all-too-familiar voice cooed with a clap of their hands._

 _I cocked my head to the side, giving my attention to the girl boarding the carriage. Brilliantly long blonde hair that resembled threads of gold accompanied with sharp azure eyes and a smile that could rival - it could be no other than Rayne Allister._

 _"Rayne!" I exclaimed ecstatically, standing up and throwing myself into her warm embrace. Rayne giggled at the greeting and gave me a friendly squeeze in return._

 _"Agh, Rose, it feels so good to see you again! A few months stuck in the Muggle World and I missed you from day one! How dare you only write back twice?"_

 _"Blame the Weasley barn owl," I huffed, crossing my arms as I pulled her into the seat next to me. The carriage began to roll down the gravel pathway towards the castle. "It's slower than Fred chatting up a girl."_

 _"I know, that's why I always send my letters back with Midnight - tell me, what have I missed? Nothing interesting?"_

 _"Absolutely nothing, the most eventful thing that's happened is beating Ron's ass in Quidditch-"_

 _"Nice!" She praised, holding up her hand for a high-five which I gladly returned. "But save that practice for the field, we need to kick Slytherin ass this year, not Weasley ass."_

 _The rest of the carriage ride was spent discussing the uneventful length of summer, and how thrilling it felt to be back at Hogwarts School. Despite her friend's beaming personality, it was hard for her shifting gazes to go unnoticed. She seemed anxious, and wary, something slightly concerning when it came to Rayne._

 _"Is there something wrong?" I asked, drumming my fingers on my lap as I, too, looked around to see if I caught sight of anything or anyone._

 _Her eyes widened and she shook her head, releasing a chuckle that was all-too-forced. "Huh? No, it's nothing... Just looking around... Rose, I have something to tell y-"  
_

 _The carriage came to a halt in front of the large gates that led students into the vast courtyard. I looked up at the castle in grand awe, the cobblestone towers and labyrinthine halls were always a sight. "Huh? We have to get going, you can ask me later."_

 _Rayne's face fell in regret and concern but she quickly replaced the emotion as she relished in the sight of her school. Within minutes we were walking alongside the antsy swarm of bustling students pushing there way inside to the Great Hall. I sighed out in relief at the sight of the floating candles, the enchanted ceiling imitating the starry night sky, and the four tables aligned with House banners billowing above them. It felt like being back home._

 _As I headed for the Gryffindor table and continued taking in the scenery, I noticed eyes flickering toward me, and then away. People murmured under their breaths and whispered to one another, although I wasn't sure what of. Was there a pesky rumor going around? Was it just my name and face, which always seemed to target the center of attention when least wanted?_

 _"Oi, Rosalie!"_

 _I caught sight of the twins waving me and the blonde over to the Gryffindor table, pushing Lee Jordan and an unfamiliar second year over to grant us spots._

 _"Boys, where were you?" I spat playfully, giving their shoulders a shove as I sat down on the wooden bench. "You left me all alone on the train with some first years!"_

 _"We're terribly sorry, flower," Fred teased along, giving a dramatic bow of his head. "We also ran into an ickly little first year outside the platform who needed help, and mum was so sympathetic she held us back. I think the poor boy was a Muggleborn, knew nothing about magic. Isn't it saddening, Georgey?"_

 _George nodded in agreement, pretending to sniffle and wipe away a tear from under his eyes._

 _"Perfect acting skills. Remind me to hex you both later."_

 _Rayne howled with laughter at her comment, eyeing me with surprise. "Merlin's beard, Rose! You've grown feistier over break, haven't you?"_

 _"I'm telling you, it's the match she had with Ron."_

 _"I've never seen a little kid so egotistically hurt!"_

 _We sniggered at the banter, but were shortly interrupted by the Transfiguration master, Professor McGonagall, leading in a shuffling bunch of first years. All were mushed in an indistinguishable crowd, marching forward in a bundle of anxious nerves._ _One by one, kids stepped up in alphabetical order while the Sorting Hat chanted House names back and forth._

 _"Gryffindor!"_

 _"Hufflepuff!"_

 _"Ravenclaw!"_

 _"Slytherin!"_

 _Students in tables whistled and cheered in greeting each time a new member was inducted. Enchanted robes and ties would convert to the house colors as the smaller kids ran to their new housemates._

 _I picked at my food with my fork, my mind dozing off as the ceremony seemed to drag on. I managed to catch a few familiar names: A Longbottom was sorted into Gryffindor, a Malfoy and a Greengrass were sorted into Slytherin (no surprise there). The less familiar the people got, the closer I was to falling asleep, my shoulders slumping down in defeat. Attention was rarely given in the ceremonies, anyways._

 _It was then that a name echoed out, seeming to bounce off the walls of the castle, causing complete and utter silence. Rayne immediately snapped her head up and cursed under her breath. The twins gasped, faces falling as they, too, turned their gaze to the child stepping onto the platform. The whole Hall tensed up and looked towards me, the mutters now a blur in my ears. My heart seemed to freeze, my body paralyzed and threatening to break, my breath caught in my throat in a sharp halt. The name repeated over and over in my mind in the span of those short seconds as I tried to convince myself of every possibility of my thoughts being wrong. This was another, not him. There was no way..._

 _But when I looked up to the stool, to the boy with a Hat being lowered onto his head, the fork in my hand slipped from my fingers and onto the fine china with a loud clanging sound. Everything fell into complete silence, as all eyes, even the rainforest green ones through round-rimmed glasses, stared._

 _With no other words, with a nervous system threatening to shut down, I placed my hands against the cold mahogany, stood up, and walked away with the two words carved into my brain._

 _"Harry Potter."_

* * *

 _"...How could you even fathom to speak such words? For a brilliant wizard as you are, can you even understand what is running through that girl's mind at this very moment? To hear her supposedly dead brother's name called out in the middle of a Hall to people who believed him gone?"_

 _I silently thanked Snape from behind the office door I eavesdropped from._

 _"Severus, I do understand. But you knew the risks of telling her earlier - it is best she's learned of the truth now. The anger will pass - if anyone needs to gain an understanding of the severity of the consequences of her knowing prior to today, it must be her," Dumbledore calmly defended, diminishing the importance of the situation._

 _Before one of them could say a thing more, my hands pushed against the doors and revealed my presence. Snape and Dumbledore watched with great uncertainty and surprise as I slammed my hands down against Dumbledore's desk with fury. Betrayal and outrage bubbled inside me and shot through every nerve in my body like electricity._

 _"What the hell is wrong with you two? How could you not have the decency to tell me that my brother is still alive? Not just me, the whole goddamn Wizarding World! After being asked countless times about that night, you denied every single mention of there ever being a sight of Harry!" I yelled at the Headmaster, angry tears streaming down my cheeks in rapid rushes._

 _Snape reached for the back of my robes to tug me away from the desk. I snatched away from his grip and spun on my heel to face him._

 _"And you," I began, waving a judgemental finger at Snape. "I trusted you! You carried me away that night, you told me he was dead just like my parents! You told me that although the Curse rebounded on Voldemort, the hit was strong enough to kill him! What is wrong with you people?"_

 _The two Professors ogled me as if I had just set the castle ablaze along with every student in it. An uncomfortably thick silence filled the air with tension before Dumbledore exhaled and wisely decided on speaking up. "Rosalie, you must listen to us. You not knowing was for your own good."_

 _"For my own damn good? Right, I know my brother is alive - you may as well ship me off to Azkaban! Better yet, sign me right up for the Dementor's Kiss," I sarcastically snapped. "How could not knowing this be possibly for my own good? Even just... knowing he was alive, even if I didn't see him until today. That would've been good enough for me..."_

 _"Some things cannot be known, Rosalie."_

 _Snape turned away from Dumbledore to face me, his eyes hardening into a stern and intense glare. "You will promise us something right now if you plan to leave this room. Potter is not to know about your blood relation yet - do not confront him."_

 _"His name is Harry," I hissed defensively. "And why can't I, Professor? What's stopping me from storming out of here right now and finding him?"_

 _"Because, he can't know yet."_

 _"That's not a good enough reason," I retorted. There was no way I was expected to continue on my time in Hogwarts with my brother inhabiting the same space as me, not knowing who I am. He deserved to know about me, to know that he has someone remaining from his family ready to watch over him and care for him. He was alone for all I knew. Who had he stayed with? How had he made it?_

 _"Trust us," Dumbledore pleaded in a hushed whisper._

 _"After this?" I breathed out, exhausted of all anger as I wiped under my eyes. "How can I?" I wasn't sure my answer was final. A part of me knew no matter what I said, a piece of me could not conform with letting go of the confidence in the two men._

 _Snape fell silent at my proclamation. I could only hope his lack of words meant he knew I was right._

 _"I'm sorry, Rosalie. I truly am. If you want to forget about your trust in us, do so as you please. But trust this one final thing. Don't let him know of you yet. Soon, we will make sure everything is explained to him," Dumbledore assured. "But now is not the right time to do so."_

 _I sighed, nodding my head. "Fine, I won't say a word. But don't take it lightly - mark this when I say it, if he doesn't know by winter break, I'm telling him myself."_

* * *

 _"Oh look, if it isn't the disgusting little lions out of their den," a shrill voice cried._

 _I scowled at the sight of an approaching Bella Moreno, third year Slytherin witch with ebony black hair, long nails, and a wicked smile. Beside her stood a chubby, rosy-cheeked boy with a sneer by the name of Crabbe, a taller yet pudgier child named Goyle, and a snarling platinum blonde that could be none other than a Malfoy._

 _"What the hell do you want, Moreno?" I spat in irritance at their presence._

 _"Well, we just wanted to congratulate you with the hell of luck you had this match - B_ _ut I wouldn't keep that victory in mind, Slytherin will win next time," Crabbe boasted._

 _"You wish," Harry mumbled, clutching his broomstick tightly._

 _"No, I think Crabbe's right, actually. There's a reason we've gone undefeated all these years," Malfoy remarked, his cold eyes sizing up his opponents. "This was just luck."_

 _"Oh would you look at that? Moreno joined Malfoy's little first year gang. This is incredible - just when I thought she couldn't get any lower," I mocked._

 _Ron and Hermione stood speechless, while Harry huffed in annoyance, fixed on the arrogant snobs before him._

 _"Please, this is Draco Malfoy after all, Lucius Malfoy's son," Bella scoffed matter-of-factly. "You wish you were prestigious enough to speak with him."_

 _"Oh right! A Malfoy - my bad, I forgot. You can add that to the list," I spat, hatred forming in the pit of my stomach. Ron snorted and tried to conceal it, but his ears went deep scarlet as Malfoy shot him a glare._

 _"Think it's funny, Weasley? It's not as if you're in a place to say that. Go cry to your mum, Potter. Oh wait, she's dead!" Malfoy recalled, cackling with evil glee._

 _The rest of the Slytherin gang chortled along at the clever comment. Harry's eyes softened sympathetically as I gulped, my eyes closing as I thought of every possible way to murder someone. No, stay calm, Rosalie, just walk away._

 _"You're crossing the line, Malfoy," Harry cautioned, attempting to come to the rescue._

 _"Digging at dead parents?" I sighed, shaking my head in disappointment. "That's a low blow. It shows how little respect you have despite your self-given grandeur."_

 _"This is too emotional," Moreno continued, ignoring the words shared by the older female. "Two Potters sympathizing about their parents' death! Someone get me a tissue, this is going to get real emotional."_

 _"I warned you the beginning of the year, Potter," Malfoy recalled. "But you've gone and befriended the wrong sort anyways. Perhaps it did do us good to not be friends."_

 _Harry took one brave step forward, inching threateningly closer to the Slytherin. "Shut up, Malfoy."_

 _"Look at you! How brave and courageous. Gonna defend your older sister?"_

 _And at that moment I was launching myself at Malfoy._

 _A sharp yank on the back of my robes prevented me from swinging at him as I stumbled backwards. Ron's tug managed to stop me, but my eyes were blazing with a black fire. An intrigued crowd was already watching the argument unravel to its climax._

 _"You bastard!" I growled._

 _"Sister..?" The raven-haired boy questioned, his voice lowering in confusion._

 _"Thought it was a coincidence you two had the same last name, didn't you, Potter? Clearly you're not so smart now, are you? I see why the Sorting Hat didn't put you in Ravenclaw," the blonde poked, as if he hadn't said enough._

 _Harry, Ron, and Hermione snarled._

 _"You don't know what you're saying, Malfoy. Leave us alone," Hermione finished._

 _Draco smirked triumphantly and with that, him and his friends were swaggering down the hall, congratulating each other and laughing to themselves. How was it Slytherins always ended up with the last word? How could they ruin it all with a snap of their fingers for their enjoyment and pride?_

 _My mind was blanked out as realization crashed that Harry was looking up at me expectantly, as if searching for an answer to Malfoy's words. What was I supposed to do? Was it safe for him to know? Should I run? Should I stay? Make up a lie?_

 _That son of a Death Eater would pay._

 _In that moment of internal war, I did the only rational thing I could conclude to - the same thing I had done for the past three years being at Hogwarts when I was troubled._

 _My legs took off in a brisk sprinting motion, leaving the gaping trio behind. I sped down the halls and towards the dungeons, refusing to slow down despite loss of breath as I made toward the pinpointed destination known as the Potions classroom. I needed Snape and Dumbledore. Not only were they the only two adults at Hogwarts I could fully confide in, but this situation required their immediate action. It was all thanks to a bunch of first year snakes._

 _I burst open the door of the classroom to spot Professor Snape sitting in his desk, quill scratching on parchment as an older boy crouched on the floor, grumbling as he scrubbed away at the grime on the stone. Upon my unexpected arrival, his dull eyes snapped up to mine._

 _"Potter, what brings you here uninvited?" He drawled with blatant disinterest, reluctantly setting down his pen to listen._

 _"It's urgent," I implored. "I need you to come with me to see Headmaster Dumbledore."_

 _"Potter," he snapped. "Can you not see with your own two eyes I'm currently busied with detention? What could be so demanding you need to barge in and interrupt for?"_

 _"He knows."_

* * *

 _I treaded slowly past the Fat Lady portrait, scanning the Gryffindor common room until I targeted who I needed to talk to sitting on the ruby red cushions by the fireplace. I stepped in front of him, snapping him out of his trance. "Harry, we need to talk."_

 _He gave a slow nod. Ron and Hermione exchanged long gazes before departing and leaving us in solitude. I took a seat next to my brother and stared at the flickering flames for a lingering moment, creating a long tranquility._

 _"I thought it was all some crude banter, the nickname... but everyone looked so surprised after he spoke, and you tried to attack him, then left... What did Malfoy mean?" Harry asked, deciding to split the strain. "What did he mean when he called you my older sister?"_

 _"He meant exactly what he said," I managed through a shaky breath, refusing to make eye contact. My posture remained stiff at his side._

 _"That's impossible. I'm an only child, I've never had siblings-"_

 _I laughed to myself, bringing him back to a silence of anticipation. "Of course, you can't remember me. You weren't even a year old."_

 _"But... No one ever mentioned you," he further pressed. "I was dropped at the doorstep of my aunt and uncle, alone."_

 _"I didn't get the choice to go with you that night. Dad... He..." I gulped away a forming lump in my throat. "He hid me away to protect me. He locked me inside of a closet - a man made it that night to the scene, he found me and he took me away. He left me in custody of a trusted wizard family - the Weasleys. He told me... He told me you were dead. And so did everyone else."_

 _He struggled to find the right words to fit the story, allowing me time to continue._

 _"I bet you were convinced your whole life you were an only child. I didn't have that advantage. I remembered you, and that night as if I was reliving it. I knew very well I had a younger brother by the name of Harry James Potter. I was told, that the night Voldemort came to our home, my brother was killed." A tear forced its way out of my eye at the memory. I sniffed and blinked it away in failing attempts to maintain my composure. "I spent my whole childhood believing what they'd told me. No one thought you were alive - but the people around me knew the truth, and never once told me. I was being tortured by visions of you, by nightmares and dreams..."_

 _"Rosalie..."_

 _"That night of the Sorting, when I heard them say your name, I refused to believe it was you. Every muscle in my body refused to work, it felt like my world just flipped upside down. When I saw you walk up to the stool, you looked so much like dad. I don't know what came over me, but I stood up and I ran. Dumbledore told me I couldn't tell you, that I had to wait for the time to be right. I tried to stay away from you, just seeing you walk down the halls stung. I was terrified. But Hermione disagreed with what I was doing - she introduced me, and maybe it was the right thing to do, seeing as I got to know you. But Malfoy just had to come and ruin it."_

 _At this point, my head had fallen in between my knees as I trembled in feeble attempts to control my sobs. I peeked with anticipated rejection at Harry, however, he no longer appeared baffled. Concern and sadness was etched on creases in his forehead, through the glimmer in his eyes. Did he believe me?_

 _"'Your blood is running through the House of Gryffindor - find it,'" Harry recited under his breath. "That's what the Sorting Hat told me when I begged for mercy from Slytherin... I thought it was talking about my parents..."_

 _My stomach dropped to the pit of my stomach, my face hidden in my arms as I sobbed. Slim, short arms wrapped around my torso, and in that moment, my lips cracked a smile of relief. I turned towards him and enveloped him around my arms in a spur of joy, feeling all the chains tying me down to the Earth coming undone. His body trembled ever so slightly, but his wide beam could be felt against my shoulder._

 _... It was then that I felt a looming presence over my frail body._

 _I pulled away from Harry's hold and looked up, eyes blowing wide with fright at the sight of a snake emerging from the fireplace with an atrocious creature beside it, its blood-red eyes directly targeting me. A wand raised, digging into the side of my temple. I reached beside me in defense, only to feel nothing but velvet._

 _Harry wasn't next to me._

 _The common room was empty._

 _An ear-splitting cry wrangled out of my throat as pain overtook my body._

 _Then suddenly, everything was green._


	2. The Invitation

Rosalie awoke abruptly with a gasp, her warm chocolate eyes rapidly scanning the surroundings of the cramped bedroom of 4 Privet Drive. Her chest heaved up and down as she took deep breaths, attempting to reclaim a normal respiratory pattern. It was all a dream. A nightmare, nothing more.

One that you've experienced one too many times, her subconscious obnoxiously reminded.

Her hands ran down her face in exhaustion before she glanced behind her shoulder at the shifting figure lying beside her on the cramped bed. Her brother Harry grumbled, lines of unrest forming on his forehead where he clutched his searing lightning bolt scar. His eyes were scrunched together, as if fighting off pain. After a few seconds, he reached over to grab his glasses and put them on. His emerald eyes flickered from the table, to the ceiling, and then finally took notice of his awake sister.

"Bad dream?"

Rosalie nodded, sitting up on the bed and combing her fingers through her messy hair. "Again." She looked down at her brother, scanning his features with a sigh. He looked nothing like the little kid she'd seen behind her eyelids just moments ago from three years back. He had grown into a chivalrous and handsome boy since then, yet it had all seemed as if it were yesterday. He was taller than she was, yet still had a youthful gleam to his features. His raven black hair was grown out to a disheveled mess. Day by day he resembled James Potter more.

"You haven't had visions about any of this? A little glimpse?"

She shook her head. "No, nothing at all. I don't understand - by this time I should have seen something, anything, especially with the recurring dreams, the Riddle House especially... I always had them before, and now it's as if they just - stopped."

"If only I knew what it was," Harry mumbled with a frown.

"That makes two of us."

As siblings living isolated in a tiny bedroom with their uncaring aunt and uncle who were repulsed by the idea of magic, they'd learned to always hold back on speaking strange things anywhere outside of their living space, especially with the kinds of dreams they'd been sharing recently. The only contrast between theirs was Harry's didn't paint pictures of any traumatic events from the past. He saw everything as one clear projection, while Rose's would split into fragments of the present linked with a memory, as if trying to do nothing more than remind and torture.

They remained in silence for a moment - Rosalie blankly staring at the wall as she huddled her knees close to her chest in deep thought, and Harry standing barefoot with his eyes shut, hands raking through his ebony locks.

"What did you see this time?" He questioned, voice hinting the obvious concern his shimmering eyes already gave away. "You know... what did you relive?"

Rosalie shifted her attention to the floor, contemplating whether she should answer. The one thing about her brother that had seemed to grow every year was his concern for her. She may have been always protective towards him, but he always found the way to have the upperhand with his stronger brotherly care, even if it was as simple as her falling on the road and scraping her knee. Although that brought great comfort to her, it was worrisome. She was ready to risk her life for Harry, but she wanted him no where near danger for her.

"Nothing, just... the night," she lied, not wishing to tell her brother about the fact Voldemort lingered in her nightmares, and every single time, managed to land a hand on her brother. He had enough things to ponder about, and her dreams wouldn't be one.

"I'm sorry," Harry apologized with a frown, shuffling over to wrap an arm around her shoulder and pull her into an embrace.

Rosalie rolled her eyes, patting his back soothingly. "Harry, you don't have to apologize for your curiosity."

"I know, you'd do the same" he teased in a light-hearted attempt to change the mood. Rosalie gave a soft chuckle and ruffled his hair, leading Harry to jump back in protest. "Hey!"

"You two!" the booming voice of Uncle Vernon called from downstairs upon hearing Harry's shout. "Get down here right now or you'll be left picking scraps for breakfast!"

Rosalie sarcastically sighed, shaking her head. "As if we eat anything more than leftovers... Do you reckon I can accidentally hex him and get away with it?"

Harry chuckled along with his sister at her remark as they made their way down the steps to reluctantly greet their cruel aunt, uncle, and cousin.

By the time Rosalie and Harry had made it downstairs, the three Dursleys were already seated around the table. Vernon payed no mind to either of them, his nose deep into a morning newspaper. Across from them, Dudley complained to Petunia about his plate of fruit, which he absolutely refused to eat. It was as if the family was completely oblivious to their arrival. They all minded their own business, not looking up at either of them. It was the typical morning behavior in the typical Dursley household.

Harry picked at the grapefruit and toast with his fork quietly, trying to drown out his irritating family. Rosalie reached for the kettle and poured herself a steaming cup of black tea, which she agreed at the start of the summer was the only good part of breakfast.

Somehow, Rosalie could feel a thick tension in the air. She took notice of Vernon's impatient foot tapping under the wooden table, and Petunia's stern expression as she chopped away at the food. Before, she would worry about the Dursleys getting angered by them (which was frequently) and the consequences, but as the years passed, it'd almost become enjoyment to see them snap at the slightest sight of abnormality. Harry and her exchanged glances - the newly-formed creases on his forehead and puzzled look gave away that he felt the strain as well. Rosalie wondered how long it would be before Dursley one, two, or three would snap. Perhaps they'd get lucky enough for all of the above?

Her thoughts were answered as Vernon cleared his throat. Rosalie took a sip of her tea before setting it down on the table and looking up at him. He shot her an icy glare, clearly not pleased with the fact she hadn't immediately given him her attention.

"You two, living room. Now."

"Can't it wait until after breakfast? " Rosalie sighed, cocking a brow at him. "I don't want my tea to get cold."

His eyes widened at her attitude, cursing under his breath in barely audible whispers. She managed to catch the words "ungrateful" and "magic freak." Harry kicked her ankle lightly, but she shrugged. It was nothing new for the older girl to talk back to Vernon Dursley. Rosalie was a caring soul, and anyone would testify to that - but where respect went undeserved, she made it clear it was undeserved.

"No," he gruffly remarked, setting down his papers and walking in the direction of the living room. "We're talking now."

Harry grumbled in protest, but stood up anyway, followed by a reluctant Rosalie. They trudged behind their uncle before taking a seat on the cushions. Vernon reached for a purple envelope set on the coffee table. The tab was already peeled open, but that wasn't what was unusual about the letter. It was covered in stamps front to back, as if the sender wasn't sure what was enough.

"This arrived for you two," He snapped, waving the letter in his hand. "Either of you care to explain what it is?"

"For us?" Harry echoed in befuddlement. Their uncle remained silent and tossed it at the boy. He caught it and pulled out the piece of parchment, scanning over the words. Rosalie curiously awaited an explanation as well as she watched Harry's eyes light up at the words on the paper. What could possibly make him so happy yet piss their uncle off so much?

"It's a letter from Mrs. Weasley," Harry stated, handing it over for Rosalie to scan, only for it to be snatched away from Vernon with distaste.

"What did it say?" She asked, completely ignoring the presence of her family member. The thought of Molly writing warmed her heart - were they getting out of this hellhole for the remaining month of the summer? Maybe she figured writing for permission from the Muggles was the best way, considering the terrible escape plan on Arthur's Ford in Harry's second year...

"She wants us to go to the Quidditch World Cup with Mr. Weasley!"

Her eyes almost bulged out of her head, her jaw falling open at the mere thought of sitting in a large stadium, watching the Bulgarian and Irish team battling head on with thousands of wizards and witches surrounding them in chanting and cheering. "You're joking! She invited us?"

"Quidditch?" Vernon spat out the word poisonously, as if disgusted by the sound of it.

"Think of it as the wizard version of football, only with a higher possibility of injury."

Harry, who had suddenly lost any past bitterness, began to babble about wizard culture. "It's a game, played on broomsticks. The teams are up in the air - Chasers, Keepers, Beaters, and Seekers. The Keepers block the Chasers from scoring goals, the Beaters wh-"

"All right, all right!" Vernon shouted in interruption, clearly uninterested. Harry's face fell to a scowl and Rosalie pat his back reassuringly. Muggles could never appreciate the fine art of Quidditch, which was quite the shame.

"At least it has enough stamps," Harry mused, shrugging to defend his best friend's mother.

"Enough stamps," Vernon scoffed in mockery. "The postman sure thought it seemed funny. Do you take this family as a joke?"

"That's not at all what he's insinuating-" Rosalie began, only to be cut off.

"Didn't even bother leaving it at the doorstep, he rang the doorbell." Vernon seemed absolutely appalled by the idea of appearing anything other than normal. It was astonishing yet hilarious how something as small as a letter with too many stamps threatened his mood and his reputation.

A silence fell amongst them, neither Harry or Rosalie knowing what to say.

"This is one of your little magic shows, isn't it?" He interrogated, his beady eyes scanning them back and forth. "Is this Quidditch what you wizards call entertainment?" Even the name of the activity repulsed him, such an odd word escaping his lips.

"It's actually a sport-" Rosalie corrected, only to be disregarded.

Harry hesitated for a moment with uncertainty. "So - can we go?"

Mr. Dursley gritted his teeth, as if waging an internal war on his decisions. "This woman - who is she? Actually, no, I don't care. What does she mean by 'write back in the normal way?'"

Harry's eyes narrowed matter-of-factly, clearly annoyed with Vernon's lack of knowledge. He should've known well by now what Mrs. Weasley had been referring to, it had only been three years since 4 Privet Drive was infested with owls and Hogwarts letters, and it surely wasn't a forgettable memoir. "She's referring to owl post - the normal way wizards communicate."

"Normal?" He spat. "You speak that nonsense of flying broomsticks and wise owls in the roof of this house-"

"You asked him," his sister piped in defensively, glaring at their uncle. "You should've expected an answer."

"I've about had it with you, you know," Vernon threatened, pointing the letter in her direction. "Have you no gratefulness for what we've done for you? You're as disrespectful as the-"

"Spare me the load of lies. I could sit here and listen to you compare me to rubbish until the last day of your miserable old life, and I wouldn't care," she admitted. "The only reason I've put up with this treatment is for my brother, and you damn well know so. Now, give him an answer, or we'll be on our way upstairs."

His eyes sharpened, as if attempting to slice Rosalie piece by piece. However, the girl was reaching a point of immense irritation and impatience.

"No," he decided. "You're not going."

"That settles it then!" Rosalie exclaimed, standing up, grabbing Harry's hand and helping him off the couch. "Good talk, but we've got letters to finish."

Harry stared at her quizzically, not catching her bluff for her evident plan of persuasion. Vernon eyed her incredulously. "Letters? To who?"

"You know, our escapee Godfather from wizard prison who was accused of murdering twelve innocent Muggles with one single spell," she laughed. Harry's eyes softened as he finally realized what she was trying to do, biting his lower lip to prevent from breaking out into an obvious smile.

"You're writing to him, are you?" Although his voice rose at the end, it wasn't a question.

"We do need to write to him often," Harry jumped in, ready to take part in the ploy. "Or else he'd think something was wrong. Now that I think about it, I haven't written to him in a while..."

It was as if gears were clicking inside of Vernon's head. He remained quiet, stroking his grey mess of a mustache before letting out a groan, tossing the letter in front of them on the coffee table. "Fine, you can go to your stupid... ruddy... little game..."

Harry's expression finally cracked into the suppressed boyish grin, matching Rosalie's innocent smile. "Good talk, Vernon!" She called out as she strutted out of the living room, out of the kitchen past the dismayed Petunia and Dudley. What did it matter? She asked herself as she ran up the stairs and swung open the door to their quaint bedroom. She was getting out of the summer hellhole to go to none other than the Quidditch World Cup.

"Rosalie Lily Potter, I don't credit you enough for being my genius big sister!" Harry praised as he followed her inside.

Rosalie wrapped an arm around his shoulder in response. "I'm only looking out for you, kid! Besides, I'm not missing the chance to see Viktor fucking Krum! Are you mad?"

"Don't let Fred and George hear you - with them rooting for Ireland, they'll be heartbroken."

"They'll surely get over it after Bulgaria takes the cup and we all celebrate in harmony," she giggled, walking towards the messy wardrobe which occupied all of Rosalie's clothes, most of which were rather outgrown or rather large. She grabbed random items and tossed them onto the bed, secretly wishing she had the ability to flick her wand to fold and pack without being punished by the Ministry. "Be a dear brother and write to Molly so she knows to come for us. You can send Addie."

Harry nodded and picked up a torn piece of paper from the night table, scribbling a brief sentence on it before rolling it up. He opened Addie's cage, the barn owl already excitedly hooting as she crawled out of the confined space and took the small message between her beak. He opened the cage for the critter, muttering the recipient's name before sending her off soaring through the morning skies.

"Now we wait," Harry sighed, trudging over to the bed, only for Rosalie to make a tutting sound and stop him from sitting down.

"Oh no, you don't. You're helping me pack these trunks or you'll be hanging from the top of the Astronomy Tower."

The next day had come slowly for the two anxious siblings. By the time the clock chimed downstairs to signal the change of hour, Rosalie and Harry were already waiting outside in the living room with loaded baggage in hand. they made it to the bottom floor, heading to the living room where they impatiently took their seat. Vernon had the decency to change into a suit, although it was a known fact it was more to add to the intimidating factor than to appear welcoming to the wizards. Rosalie was willing to bet Petunia was ready to faint at the thought of having even more visitors in her home who possessed magical abilities. Had two not been enough of a punishment?

Their uncle didn't seem to know what to expect from the wizarding family, however, he had made assumptions to relax himself the best he could. Some reassurances were: the Weasleys would be arriving in a car (even if it was the same, ruddy Ford Anglia), the Weasleys would come dressed properly to greet them, and they would be punctual.

His impressions were incorrect.

"It's five o'clock," Petunia observed at yet another chime from the wall clock. Vernon snarled at the wooden decor and turned to look at Harry and Rosalie, who had their legs swung over the armrests of the sofa and were silently awaiting the Weasleys' arrival. "They're late!"

"We're aware."

"They'll be here," they answered simultaneously.

Minutes and minutes passed, but no trace of the family was seen. Rosalie stood up from her spot and strolled over to the window, taking a glance outside onto the streets of Privet Drive. There was no sign or flaming red hair anywhere. Had they gotten Harry's note?

"What's taking them so long?" Harry protested, his voice hinting at slight panic and worry.

"They have to have gotten our response," Rosalie assured. "I'm sure they're just running late. They're not ones to be on time."

Molly had mentioned Arthur accompanying the kids. This left Rosalie to assume Mr. Weasley would be their rescuer, along with the rest of the Weasley children, which was a large lot to handle. A downside to this meant a delay in their time of escape, but she could rest in peace knowing that soon, she'd be free from the streets of Little Whinging and reunited with her friends.

Her thoughts were snapped as a loud cry of surprise sounded from the kitchen from their Uncle Vernon. Rosalie jumped up in immediate hope along with Harry as they grabbed their luggage and ran toward the source of the noise.

"Vernon! What is it? Has something happened?" Petunia rushed into the scene, gasping as she stared at the fireplace. "What is going on?"

"Oh no, this isn't what was supposed to happen - Fred, go back and - oh, never mind! This has gone wrong - at least try and stop R- Oh good, Ron's here too - there's no room..."

The speaking voice was pinpointed as Arthur Weasley, his tone full of concern and confusion.

Ron was the next one to speak. "Do you think they can hear us? HARRY! WE'RE IN HERE!"

Dudley appeared frightened out of his mind, Petunia clutching his shoulders tightly. Vernon was scowling at the shouting as he turned to face the Potter siblings. The only problem is, one of them was fighting his urge to laugh, while the other was full on cackling at the blatant issue with the Weasleys.

"What are those wizards doing stuck in our fireplace?" He bellowed. "What is this about?"

"You blocked the fireplace," Harry reminded him. "They're stuck in there."

"You can travel through fi-" Vernon cut himself off before he could wonder any further about it.

Rosalie wiped tears from her under her eyes, gasping for air as she walked over to the fireplace. She leaned under it and called out to the family. "Oi!"

"Shh! Was that Rose I heard?" Fred exclaimed.

"Ouch, Fred! You're stepping on me!"

"We all are, Ronald!"

"You can't get in through the fireplace, it's blocked!" Rosalie called out to them.

Mr. Weasley made another sound of confusion. "Blocked? Why would the Muggles block the fireplace?"

"It's electric! You can't come through here, is there another way out?" Rosalie asked them, raising her voice.

"There actually may be another way - Merlin's beard, electric you say? I must get a look at that - step back, Rosalie!"

The eldest Potter furrowed her brows, when a rumbling noise sounded from the brick of the chimney. She stepped back, marvelling at what the Dursleys eyed in fear.

"What are they doing?" Harry asked Rosalie, who only shook her head.

"No idea!"

BANG!

The fireplace expelled outward in explosion with a cloud of ash and chippings. Out of it fell Arthur, Fred, George, and Ron Weasley with grunts, landing on piles on top of each other. Petunia shrieked in horror, Vernon absolutely outraged with the intrusion and mess.

Arthur was the first to stand up, wiping off debris from his clothing with his hands and fixing up his hair. "Much better. Ah, you must be Harry and Rosalie's aunt and uncle! Pleasure, though apologies for the mess." His eyes scanned around the room, aweing at the Muggle furniture, decor, and technology. "Merlin's beard, this is a lovely house! You Muggles fascinate me!"

Vernon had absolutely no words to share, his face and outfit covered with dust. Rosalie, on the other hand, had plenty to say as she walked towards Mr. Weasley to grant him a welcoming hug.

"Ahem," the two twins coughed behind Rosalie.

"Have you forgotten about your favorite twins?"

"After all we've been through, this is how we're greeted?"

Rosalie wanted to scoff and slap their arms, but enthusiasm and relief at the sight of her ginger friends took over her emotions when she turned around to face them. "Come here, you two idiots!"

She yanked them into a tight embrace which they openly returned. Harry gave a mischievous grin her direction at the reunion of the pranksters, while Arthur shone a loving smile at the sight of family and friends coming together. Harry and Rosalie's aunt, uncle, and cousin still appeared bewildered and speechless, not that it mattered to them.

Ron pinched the bridge of his nose as he made his way towards Harry. "Bloody hell, that was quite the trip down! Is this how all Muggle houses look like?"

Harry merely laughed and pulled him into a brotherly hug, giving his back a pat. Rosalie stepped to the side to greet Ron as well.

"I've sure missed you two," Ron complained, ruffling both of their hairs. Rosalie noticed then that his fiery red locks almost resembled a mane, barely touching his shoulders, quite similar to that of his brothers'. Had her brother and the Weasleys forgotten about the existence of haircuts? Or was it a new wizard trend to outgrow hair?

"We have too, thank God you all have come to the rescue! I don't think I could've survived another moment here."

As Arthur awkwardly attempted small chat with Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia about his collection of electricity plugs, which left the family thinking Arthur was mad, the twins called over Rosalie.

"I can't help but take a good look at your cousin over there, Rose," George admitted, scratching his chin once the girl had made it back to them.

"We've heard so much about him."

"Yet he looks exactly like we pictured him!"

Rosalie nodded, glancing over at her large, pudgy cousin. "He's quite the pig, and a pain in the ass to deal with. Those looks are telling me you've got something under your sleeve ready."

"Let's say Georgey and I have invented the finest piece of trickster candy of all time," Fred murmured excitedly. "Enough to outwit Zonko's."

"That's quite the stretch," Rosalie laughed challengingly, crossing her arms. "What makes this product so utterly brilliant?"

George dug into the deep crevices of his pockets before pulling out a confectionary tied in colorful striped wrapping. "Ton-Tongue Toffee," he presented proudly.

"Enlarges your tongue drastically," Fred explained.

"A great excuse to get out of your History of Magic lecture!"

Rosalie grinned in marvel, taking a good look at the piece of candy. "I'm impressed! It's so stupidly genius that you're tempting me to use one right now."

They returned the smug smile as their formulating idea began to outshine. "Well, we aren't stopping you," Fred reminded her.

"If we don't see it, we can't say anything, right?".

She caught on to their drift and snickered deviously, taking the candy in her hands and securing it in a closed fist.

"I should warn you though," George added. "It is a prototype so it may carry a few side effects... Nothing too major - on a wizard. We haven't tested it on Muggles."

"I'll take my chances," Rose shrugged, reaching to grab her trunks.

"Well, we best get going," Arthur called out. "We've lots to do before the Cup! Ron, Harry, off you two go!" He pointed his wand towards the fireplace. "Incendio!"

Harry scratched the back of his neck as he glanced towards the Dursleys. "Right, er, goodbye then."

The family remained completely and utterly silent as Harry grabbed his belongings, not bothering to wait for a reply he knew wouldn't come. Arthur frowned and turned to Vernon. "Your nephew just said goodbye to you, and you don't plan to say it back?"

Proud Uncle Vernon suddenly looked defeated as he narrowed his eyes at Harry. "Goodbye, then" he stiffly complied, leaving Harry with a sense of triumph and inferiority. Ron was already in the fire, teleporting to the Burrow. Harry disappeared right after him.

"Boys, Rosalie, you next!"

As Rose prepared to step into the green flames and transport herself to her destination, she dropped the toffee and made sure the action was obvious. Dudley's eyes immediately widened in hunger as he noticed Rosalie slowly leaning to pick it back up and launched himself forward to snatch it up from her. Rosalie faked a look of disappointment, causing Dudley to snort and unwrap the candy to devour himself.

"No Duddykins, you're on a diet!" Petunia cried out.

"Relax, it's one toffee candy," she argued rather suspiciously. "It won't harm him."

Dudley nodded, for once in his life being able to share a consensual agreement with his cousin. The twins watched with anticipation in their last moments disappearing into the fire as Dudley popped the delicacy in his mouth and began to chew it up.

Rosalie was last in line besides Arthur to depart. She took one step into the shattered fireplace and inhaled deeply. Dudley's tongue started to swell up, immensely growing in size and lolling out of his mouth. Aunt Petunia released a frightened screech for what seemed the millionth time today as she ran forward, kneeling on the floor to help her screaming son whose tongue had plummeted onto the floor.

A deafening laugh of victory left Rosalie's throat, revealing her intentions. Uncle Vernon, absolutely furious, began to stomp towards her to yank her out of the fire and stop her from going anywhere.. Unfortunately for him, Rosalie was too quick - before he manage any hold of her, she yelled, "The Burrow!" and was sucked away into the comfort of the Weasley home.

 ** _*AUTHOR'S NOTE_ ***

 _ **welcome to the world of Rosalie Potter my lovelies!**_

 ** _the first few chapters will be a bit of exposition to introduce you to Rosalie, Harry, their life and personalities, their relationships with other characters, all that good stuff. 3 but I promise the story will get more exciting ok ok_**


	3. The Portkey

**Quick Note: You guys should check out lumosmancer's Lyra Black series because it's really good and you'll fall in love with the Black daughter as much as I have. That is all.**

The following morning at the Burrow approached a little too quickly for Rosalie's satisfaction. She softly snored in a sound sleep, curled up with her knees pressed to her chest on Ginny's small bed. For the first night in what seemed forever, she hadn't been haunted by repressed memories and fortune-telling nightmares. To add on to the list, she hadn't been able to sleep alone since she last occupied her dormitory in the Gryffindor Tower. Although the mattress may not have been comforting to others used to better commodities, she felt as if she was on a cloud.

It was a shame it didn't last long.

"Is she still asleep?" Hermione tutted in disbelief.

"'Mione, the poor girl's probably had a long summer," Ginny defended. "She looks like she's dead - Well, I don't think she's dead..."

"No, Ginny, she's not," Hermione interjected.

"Give her a few more minutes?"

"Your mum came to wake her up fifteen minutes ago - everyone's already downstairs for breakfast. Unless she plans on missing the World Cup we need to wake her up so she can get ready."

Ginny sighed. "Have fun trying to get her out of there. You didn't live with her for ten years."

"Please, Ginny, I share a dormitory with her. I know what she's like in the mornings," Hermione reminded her.

The younger girl laughed at her comment, the sound quickly fading as it was concealed by footsteps and a closing door. It was then that a burst of intense sunlight illuminated Rosalie's face. The dancing rays of yellow were enough to disturb her eyes, making her scrunch them up with a muffled whining. She reached for a pillow and attempted to block her face with it, only for it to be snatched away.

"Come on, Rosalie, you have to get up!" Hermione urged.

Rosalie made another incoherent sound as she rubbed at her eyes. "I don't want to," she complained groggily.

"I know it's early, but everyone's already downstairs," she further pushed, tossing the pillow back at the exhausted girl. It landed on her face, causing her to groan once more. "Sorry!"

Rose opened her eyes, trying to distinguish Hermione's figure's position through her blurry morning vision. She weakly tossed the pillow back, only for it to end up several feet away from Hermione.

"You missed," Hermione pointed out, smiling as she picked up the pillow and tossed it back to her. "Stop trying to have a pillow fight, you're awake now. Get dressed and meet us downstairs."

"Is everyone seriously already down there?" She asked as she sat up, stretching her muscles. Her sentence was slowed mid-way by a hearty yawn.

"Yes, they are. Molly came to wake you up fifteen minutes ago, but you wouldn't budge. She was too timid to come wake you up again," Hermione explained.

"So you volunteered for the task, considering you're the only person who bothers to mess with me on cranky mornings at Hogwarts?" Rosalie mused, offering her a small grin. Her vision was clearing up now, allowing her to be able to directly look at the bushy-haired brunette.

Hermione put her hands up defensively. "Trust me, I do feel bad for waking you. But someone has to be brave enough to battle the beast that is Rosalie Potter in the mornings."

"Yeah, yeah," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "Go downstairs. I'll be there in a minute."

She nodded and took her departure, leaving Rosalie alone in the compact bedroom. She stepped up off the bed, the wooden floorboards creaking under her bare feet as she made her way towards her discarded trunks. She pulled up the metal lock and began rummaging around for a snug outfit, settling on a black sleeveless top and loose jeans. She slipped on her shoes, picked up her messy raven-black hair, tucked her wand in her boot, and grabbed her bag for the trip before sauntering off to the downstairs kitchen.

Upon her arrival, the whole family looked up, offering warm smiles. Molly walked towards her, wrapping an arm around her in a quick embrace. "Oh, you're awake! I'm sorry to wake you so early, my dear, but let's not doddle on that longer! Just eat up quickly!"

"It's fine, Mrs. Weasley, I'm sorry for not realizing the time," she kindly apologized, offering her a sheepish beam before taking her seat at the rectangular dining table besides Harry.

"I didn't think you'd live to see the light of day again," he mocked, glancing over at her as he set his glass of pumpkin juice down.

"Don't try me, Harry, you've had worse mornings," she scoffed, sending them both into giggling fits. She poured herself a warm mug of coffee while Mrs. Weasley flicked her wand, sending buttered toast and eggs soaring to her empty plate. She wasn't sure if her stomach was bubbling in gratitude for the full plate of breakfast, or out of roaring hunger. Whatever it was, it already had her digging into the fried eggs.

"Weren't Bill, Charlie, and Percy tagging along as well?" Rosalie asked after swallowing her forkful, taking notice of the absence of the three eldest Weasley children.

"They're Apparating at around midday," Arthur informed, only for Fred to cut in.

"Percy's been Apparating everywhere. He passed his test two weeks ago, he even apparates downstairs and upstairs," he protested. "It's just to show off."

"Definitely sounds like him," Rosalie added under her breath.

"Why do we have to wake up so early if they're not leaving until midday? The match doesn't start until way later, anyways," Ginny huffed, crossing her arms.

"Well, for one, we're walking-"

"To the World Cup?" Harry choked out in befuddlement. How far away was it?

"Oh, heavens, no!" Arthur chortled. "The World Cup is miles and miles away, too far to possibly walk to. The Ministry's scattered a few hundred Portkeys around Britain in locations away from wandering Muggle eyes. The closest one is in Stoatshead Hill, just a ways off the village. That's where we're heading, we'll be meeting with a co-worker friend of mine."

"That's why we've asked you to dress so casually," Molly added on. "To attract less attention to yourselves, blend in with the Muggle crowd." It was then that her eyes widened and she clapped her hands, something clicking in her head. "Oh my, before I forget! Harry, Rosalie, I have something for you two to w- GEORGE!"

All eyes snapped to the redhead twin, who gave an innocent look. Nobody bought it, noticing the colorful wrappers of Ton-Tongue Toffees on the floor. "What?"

"I told you and your brother to get rid of those _things_!" She scolded in a loud shout.

"What things?" George shielded, moving his foot under the table to try and kick the confectionary out of sight. Molly was too quick, however, and with a wave of her wand, Ton-Tongue candies were flying out of George and Fred's pockets and jackets in extensive numbers, littering the floor.

"I told you two to stop with this foolery and to get rid of all of these!" She cried out. "Go, right now, get rid of them!"

"But mum, we've spent months working on those," Fred tried to coax, only for Molly to levitate a rolled-up Witch Weekly article, whacking him across the head with it.

"Months well spent, I suppose?" She protested. "You could've gotten more O. with that time, but no! Right now, upstairs! Discard them!"

Rosalie bit her lip, trying to not show her evident entertainment at their situation. The twins narrowed their eyes at her before reluctantly picking up the sweets and disappearing upstairs with piles in their hands. Somehow, Rosalie knew they wouldn't comply so easily.

"Where was I? Oh, right!" Molly disappeared into the living room, resurfacing just seconds later with two parcels in her hand. She handed one to each of them. "I made you two a little something to wear for the Cup - I hope I have your favorite team right, I only had Ron to tell me. You both can wear it to the game, and it should help you blend in with the other Muggles at the village!"

Rosalie tore open the packaging carefully, greeted with red and black thread. She pulled out the item, revealing a scarf knit in the Bulgarian team's colors. Harry's gift was identical, surely the brilliant idea of Molly to have them match.

"I love it," Rosalie assured when she noticed her hopefully expectant expression. It immediately lit up at their response.

"You didn't have to go through that trouble, Mrs. Weasley," Harry stated, wrapping the scarf around his neck.

"Nonsense!" She abruptly interrupted, placing a hand on both of their shoulders. "Think of it as secondary birthday gifts, how's that?"

Rosalie smiled in thanks as she pulled hers on. At that same moment, Fred and George descended the steps. Fred cocked a brow at the two. "What's with the matchy-matchy, Potters?"

George faked a gasp of surprise. "Wait, is that the Bulgarian team's colors? Freddy, they've betrayed us!"

Fred started to fake weep, George rubbing his back dramatically in consolation. Harry let out a laugh at their idiotic reactions, but Rosalie merely smirked. "I'm sorry, you two, but I support only the most genius of teams."

Ron clapped in approval. "This is why I prefer you over them, Rose."

Arthur stood up, moving to give Molly a goodbye kiss on the cheek as she used magic to pick up the plates and wash them. "Alright, kids, off we go!" He ushered, leading the group outside of the Burrow.

The group began their walk out towards Stoatshead. Harry was bugging Arthur with questions about Portkeys, Apparition, the World Cup, and Muggles, which was enough to entertain himself from the long climb. Arthur looked as if he had no difficulty with all the climbing, feeling rather enthusiastic about Harry's curiosity and interest. Ron followed alongside him. Hermione and Ginny chattered amongst themselves, while Rosalie talked to the twins.

"It's not my fault it fell out of my pocket," George defended for the tenth time since their departure.

"You could've hidden them somewhere better, perhaps in - oh, I don't know - your bag?" Rosalie pointed out matter-of-factly, her eyebrows raising at him in taunting. Fred snickered.

"We had them in super secure places!"

"Your clothes are not a secure place, George."

"Our mom just has hawk-like eyes," Fred stepped in. "She sees everything, I swear, that woman..."

"Or you just didn't hide them well enough," she chirped with a smart-ass grin.

"Hey! You can't act like the innocent one - you gave one of them to your _cousin_! And dad blamed it on _us_ for giving it to you!" Fred whined, although neither of the twins' smiles faltered.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Rosalie pretended, placing a hand on her chest. "I'm an absolute angel."

"I hate to break it to you, flower, but angels can't have sass," Fred remarked.

"Not to mention you've got a mean anger - does it just run in the Potter family?" George asked, scratching his chin.

"And you're a mischievous little thing when you want to be - how else do you explain our genius pranks?"

"Ooh, did you just call me genius?" Rosalie mused, her face lighting up. George cursed under his breath in defeat, giving her a playful glare.

The climb up the mountain where the Portkey awaited only seemed to drag on longer. All minus Arthur now trailed in sluggish paces, clutching onto the bags on their backs for support. Every breath Rosalie took felt sharp in her chest; her feet were sore and threatening to give out on her. The boiling sun above their heads didn't help their situation as it beat down the early morning heat on their faces. The further up they got, the more they encountered. Ron had nearly fallen after tripping on a tuffle of grass, Hermione was clutching her side, and Ginny continued to complain.

"How much longer, dad?" she questioned again through heavy pants.

"Don't worry, it's just up ahead," Arthur guaranteed, beckoning to the top of the hill.

"I thought your mum said we were going to the World Cup, not on a camping trip," Rosalie mumbled, leaning over towards the twins to make sure only they heard it.

Rather unfortunately, Hermione also heard it, and sighed. "Don't be so sarcastic, Rosalie. It's not that bad. There's at least some… beautiful scenery... to enjoy…?"

"Hermione, even you're out of breath," Rosalie shot back. "For all I care, nature can kiss my a-"

"We're here!" The twins cried out gleefully, pushing the girls forward as they felt the steep ground finally level. Rosalie almost tripped from the sudden shove, only managing to catch herself thanks to Hermione.

"See? I told you it wouldn't be too long now," Arthur hummed, his eyes scanning the place. "Well, perhaps we should find that Portkey… whatever the ruggedy thing looks like…"

"Arthur!" A voice called from the distance. "Is that you? We've got the Portkey!"

It was then that the group became aware of two tall figures in the distance with their arms up in a beckoning motion. Arthur clapped his hands and began to lead the group their way. "Ah, Amos! Nice to see you!"

The two new strangers were finally recognizable - there was one older man with blonde hair, oval glasses, and a kind smile, dressed in heavy coats with bags hooked around his shoulders. The boy beside him Rosalie recognized well - Cedric Diggory, the Hufflepuff Quidditch team captain, and the heartthrob of the badger house. Rosalie immediately assumed the man sharing resemblance to him was his father.

Amos chuckled and nodded before taking a good look at all the children his co-worker had brought along with him. "Are these all yours?"

"Only the ones with red hair," he cleared up before motioning towards the two Potters. "That's Hermione, Ron's friend, and Harry and Rosalie, also his fr-."

"Merlin's beard - _the_ Harry and Rosalie Potter?" Amos marveled, strolling over to them with two arms outstretched. The two siblings took his hands in greeting, giving them a shake.

"I've heard fascinating stories about your Quidditch games, Cedric talks about it all the time," he complimented, but then quickly switched to a boasting grin. "Quite a story it is - Cedric, my son, beat Harry _Potter_!"

"Dad, it was just because Harry fell off his broomstick," Cedric quickly defended, pinching the bridge of his nose and shooting the boy an apologetic smile.

"You still did it, my boy!" He bragged. "You didn't fall off your broomstick, did you? But as they say, may the best man win, and that he did. Imagine telling the future grandchildren! My son is quite the handsome one, eh, Rosalie?"

At this, everyone but Rosalie and Cedric burst into laughter. Her friends were in hysterics at her humility, her cheeks dusted bright red. Arthur was laughing at what he considered a humorous and light-hearted joke.

" _Dad_ ," Cedric complained in a soft mumble.

"Fine, fine, I'll stop," Amos sighed, wiping imaginary tears away from under his eyes. "That's my Cedric, so modest and humble. Let's get going then? Make sure you've got everything, sit around in a circle by that boot over there!"

The group walked towards the Portkey, a tattered old shoe lying alone in the wefts of grass. Everyone kneeled around it in a circle, reaching out to grab it.

Cedric took the spot besides Rosalie, kneeling down and placing a hand on the heel of the boot. He glanced over at the girl before giving her an award-winning yet sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry about my dad - he gets too excited sometimes and doesn't know what's the right thing to say," he pardoned.

Rosalie, unsure of what to say, was only capable of an awkward laugh and an attempt to not stutter. "Oh, no, it's fine, I'm fine - It was just sudden."

Arthur began to count down seconds, staring at the ticking hand on his watch. It came suddenly - they were whisked away into thin air, yanked like hooks off of the ground. A whirlwind of colors surrounded them, their fingers magnetically drawn to the object holding them up. They spun at an ungodly speed, sending Rosalie into a spiral of unwelcome dizziness.

It ended as quickly as it started, their bodies plummeting to the ground. Rosalie landed with a thud, her bulky and uncomfortable backpack luckily alleviating the fall. Only Mr. Diggory, Cedric, and Arthur were standing on two feet; meanwhile, the rest were staggering or on the ground. She scratched her head, attempting to stand back up, when Ron appeared, crashing down from the sky, landing right on top of Rosalie. She grunted in pain.

"Jesus, Ronald, get off of me!" She exclaimed, trying to squirm her way out from under him. With scarlet ears, he muttered a simple "Sorry" and stood up, offering her a hand.

"Talk about rough landing," Harry huffed as Rosalie gave him her hand, pulling him upright. "How come they landed so swiftly?"

"Experience, Harry," Arthur piped up. "Travelled with quite a few of those things thanks to the Ministry."

"Who cares what travels you've done with that, dad?" Ron interrupted, sauntering towards the steep descent of the hill, beaming at the sight below the new ground. "We're at the Quidditch World Cup."


	4. The Match

"I can't believe we're about to do this," Rose muttered under her breath as she, Fred, and George tiptoed past the security and slipped into the desolate Bulgarian team's tent.

Fred sported a crooked grin as he took a look around the extended space, equipped with showers, benches, Healer medicines and kits, broomsticks - all the possible necessities for a Quidditch game. "Believe it now, Rose. This is where internationally famous Quidditch teams have gathered, not just Bulgaria. Doesn't it bring tears to your eyes?"

A deep breath left her lips at the thought of all of the legendary players that once stood, or will stand in the future, on the same ground she was stepping. "Bloody hell, is that something to think about..."

"Don't doddle too much on it, your mind might explode."

"It may already have."

The Weasley twins devised earlier that day an ingenious plan to gather more funds for their prank shop, as well as acquire souvenir money (since all their money was taken back in the tent) when they arrived at their camp. The mission was to sneak into the Bulgarian team's marquee, acquire items of value - yet things one wouldn't easily note to be missing - to sell to screaming teenage girls and raging Quidditch fathers, and sneak back out unnoticed. Rosalie was quick to join in on their mischief, not even giving it second thought when the idea was repeated to her.

"Not that this is a bad idea or anything, but personally I fancy sneaking into the Irish tent more. It's a shame the Bulgarian team seems to be the most popular this year."

Rosalie rolled her eyes and began to walk around, heading towards the bags on the benches. "Perhaps the Irish are on the other side of the rainbow?" She noticed a sticky piece of white bandage and twisted her face in disgust. "Reckon anyone's crazy enough to buy a used bandage?"

"It'd be more valuable if we could put a name on it," George sighed. "But who knows? These days anything sells to admirers."

She decided against picking up the gross and used gauge, instead moving on to admire the broomsticks. "Did we even establish how much time we have to do all of this?" She wondered.

Fred shrugged as he rummaged through the wardrobes. "Pfft, not at all - our focus is on getting in and getting out as fast as we can - Ooh, Zograf's shirt? Must snatch that..."

"Did you know Bulgaria's mascots are veelas this year?" George recalled as he duplicated the signature of one of the Beaters on different pieces of parchment and shoved them into his sack. "Watch them distract themselves mid-game with the pretty ladies!"

"They will not," the eldest Potter huffed in defense, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes at the twin. "If anything, Ireland should watch their pots of gold."

"You're just a sucker for Viktor Krum."

"Ooh, Viktor!" Fred teased, pretending to swoon as he pulled out one of his jerseys and began to dance around with it. "You're so dreamy!"

"That's not how I-"

"Viktor, look at your muscles!" George joined in, putting his hands over his face and imitating a squeal. The twins began to laugh and Fred tossed Rosalie the jersey, which she caught with her hands with a scoff.

"I only admire him for his Seeking skills, alright? My dad used to be a Seeker - it's only natural I look up to one of the best Seekers in any of the national teams."

"Keep telling yourself that, Rose," Fred hummed.

"You two are unbelievable!" She complained, although she couldn't stop the wide smile that cracked in her expression.

"You know you love us - but seriously, try it on!" George urged, motioning to Krum's jersey. "You only get to say you did this once in your lifetime!"

She rolled her eyes and slipped the clothing on. It was quite obviously massive on her short and slim figure, reaching almost to the middle of her thighs. It smelled unfortunately strong of sweat and musk, exactly what she expected from a masculine Quidditch star. "I don't look too bad in it, I think."

"Viktor Krum should feel honored now," Fred teased. "The Rosalie Potter herself has worn his jersey."

"Too bad he'll never know the legend," Rosalie agreed, wiping a fake tear from under her eye.

They spent another two minutes searching the place from top to bottom. They knew they didn't have much time left until the team gathered back to prepare for the match, or for someone in their family and friends to notice their elongated absence (Rosalie, Fred and George had snuck away from the group before they began climbing to their seats).

"Are we done here?" Rosalie asked as she handed George a half-emptied water bottle with Chaser Vasily Dimitrov's name scribbled on the front. "The game's gonna start and we're going to miss it!"

"Let's call it a wrap then," he agreed, closing up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. "Put the jersey back where you found it, flower."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm on it!"

Rosalie tugged on them hem of the jersey and pulled it over her head and off. Fred and George followed behind her as she stepped toward the closet it was originally hung up, when the sound of the tent door being pulled back alerted them, followed with crunching footsteps on grass. She looked up and caught a glimpse of an utterly baffled and cautious Viktor Krum for half a second before the twins had her hand and yanked her out of the tent, the jersey still in her hand.

"Holy shit!" She exclaimed as they took off running toward the crowd of eager witches and wizards climbing the stairs to their spots. They could hear the player coming after them, but they were soon lost in the crowd, drowned out by arising shouts at the sight of the Bulgarian Seeker.

As they climbed the steps, they exchanged glances and burst into loud laughter, startling a couple of people. They shoved each other playfully and exchanged high-fives.

"Mission success!" The twins cried in victory, throwing their arms up in the air.

"That is officially the craziest thing we will ever do!" Rosalie giggled. "You are crazy!"

"Us?! You stole Viktor Krum's jersey!" Fred accused pointedly as the girl quickly stuffed it away from wandering eyesight.

"Not intentionally," she hotly defended. "He was gonna catch us if we didn't run!"

"I've got to give it to us, that was the most suave getaway we've ever accomplished," George admitted with a proud nod of his head. "I don't even think he saw our faces!"

"Not like we'll be seeing him again anyways," Rosalie laughed, shrugging. "I've got myself an original Krum jersey! How many fans can say they've got that?"

"Only you, thanks to us!"

"Yes, thank us, worship us - although it won't change the fact that I'm still disappointed in you for choosing Bulgaria over Ireland," Fred (for the fifth time today) dramatically complained, fanning his face as they sped up the pace of their ascent.

She groaned. "What do you even have to compare the Ireland team to?" Rosalie argued, crossing her arms. "I mean, sure, their Chasers are amazing, and there's no denying it. But one goal is only ten points. Krum is the best bloody Seeker in the whole wizarding world - the Snitch is worth 150 points, and ends the game. His Seeking skills will outshine Lynch's for sure."

"But what if the Irish were to gain enough goals to beat the Bulgarians even if Krum caught the Snitch?" George interrogated, only for Rosalie to scoff, knowing exactly what he was referring to as the face of the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports popped into her head. It was thanks to this peculiar and oddly-eccentric man named Ludo Bagman, whom everyone had met earlier, that the kids were getting spots in the best available - the Ministry's top box. However, it was also thanks to this man and a certain gamble he had agreed to that Fred and George wouldn't shut up about the Irish team.

"What makes you so confident?" Rosalie wondered. "Let me recall your prediction for a moment - Krum catches the Snitch but Ireland wins? That's a pretty bold statement. What happens if you lose?"

"We won't lose," Fred interjected with complete confidence.

"We know our Quidditch, flower," George boasted.

"But that doesn't erase the probability, you idiots," Rose scoffed. "It's not like you're Seers. I'll laugh my ass off if you two end up losing the bet and have to scrape off all your prank shop savings to pay back the man."

"You know, she's right. We're not Seers. We should have asked our little Rosalie to conjure us up a vision, then," George mumbled, swinging an arm around the girl, only for her to gasp and swat his arm.

"Shut up! Have you forgotten we're in public?!" She hissed. "Besides, why would I? That ruins the fun of coming to actually see the game."

"I think you're the one ruining the fun here, Rose," Fred began, only to also receive a harsh smack on his shoulder. "Oi!"

"All I'm saying is, you should prepare to lose just as you're preparing to win-" Rose began, only for Fred to huff in response.

"We will not lose!"

"Well right now, what we are losing is time - the game's almost starting, so put a step in it, Irish boy!"

"We're walking, don't push it!" The twins complained at the same time with an amused chuckle at Rosalie's suddenly bossy shift-of-mood. She rolled her eyes but couldn't help giggling along with them.

They were climbing for what seemed ages, yet the excitement coursing through her veins like electricity refrained the exercise from feeling anywhere near as exhausting as the climb up Stoatshead. The adrenaline from their run earlier, the thrill at the match they'd be witnessing within an hour, along with the hundred thousand other witches and wizards gathered from around the world for the big event, overpowered any other emotion. Not only did she have the miraculous opportunity to come to the match, her seats were located in the most prestigious section of the ample stadium, with only the most prestigious of wizards. For once, she felt gratitude toward the Ministry for something.

It took them near a half hour until the three made it to the top box. Immediately, they were greeted with witches and wizards dressed in sophisticated robes, dresses, and blazers - clearly uncomfortable attire for a hot summer evening sports game. Considering the Weasley, Potters, and Hermione all had painted faces and festive clothes, they appeared flashy in comparison to everyone else, minus the one or two children who were also dressed to the occasion. Despite the lack of fan culture in the Minister's box, however, the view out of the stadium was fantastic - they were high enough to be at level with the flying players, and could perfectly see everyone else who waved colorful banners and showed off their team pride.

Clueless as to where to start looking, they began to stroll around with sharp eyes for a large gathering of redheads to signal their spots. They pushed past the swarm of chattering others and circled around the area in search. It was then that Rosalie spotted two familiar male heads of white blonde hair and a woman with reflective black roots and an equally pale hairstyle pulled into a fancy updo. Rosalie scowled in distaste and almost walked away, when she noticed they were standing with smirks on their faces in front of a quite frustrated Arthur Weasley, and bitter-looking children.

She warily approached the group, coming up behind the Malfoys to stand beside her brother. Her eyes narrowed at Lucius's glare. "What's going on here?"

"If it isn't Rosalie Potter," the older man drawled, his lips curling up into a nasty smile. "You've missed out on all the fun."

"Had to go beg to keep your spots here?" Their son, Draco Malfoy, snobbily scoffed. "No surprise you were dragged in by that lunatic Bagman - we were just mentioning how father and I were invited personally by Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic."

"Well, it just so happens that Rosalie was with the one and only Viktor Krum-" Fred began, boasting the lie.

"We had to go get her, they couldn't keep their hands off each other, and the game has to start-"

Lucius grimaced. Draco, Hermione, Harry, and Ron blinked in shock and disbelief. Arthur appeared just as surprised, ears turning pink in embarrassment for something that probably wasn't for his ears.

Rosalie opened her mouth to rebut - the last thing she needed was a rumor - but George continued to feed the fire by snatching the jersey. "See? He gave her this to remember him by. How romantic..."

Draco, in attempts to fix the situation for their favor, scoffed and let out a pitiful chuckle. "Krum has no authority compared to the Minister of Magic. Why is it such a big deal if Rosalie and Krum were off somewhere in the sunset? He didn't bring her here, meanwhile Fudge escorted us-"

"I wonder how much you had to pay the poor old bloke to convince him," Ron murmured.

Draco, who heard the snide comment, sneered. "How much did you have to pay? Surely your house won't fetch you this-"

"Now, now, Draco," Lucius sarcastically scolded, pressing his serpent-headed walking stick to his son's chest as he raised an eyebrow at the large group. "We're in public, and there's no need with these people."

"Then I suggest you find another family to mingle with, Lucius," Arthur stepped in, placing his hands on Ginny and Ron's backs.

"It seems we're unwanted here... Narcissa, if you'd go find us our seats," Lucius demandingly spoke, motioning with his head to where the Bulgarian Minister and Fudge were entering. His wife only nodded and beckoned for Draco, who shot the group one last cold look and followed behind his mother. "It's the talk around here that this will be an interesting match, so why not enjoy yourselves?"

"I'll gladly enjoy myself once I've rid of your sight," Rosalie snarled.

He chuckled lowly and began to step backwards. He uttered his last words, almost inaudible from the distance, before disappearing after his family. "Consider your fun beginning now, Potter."

Arthur exhaled sharply before jumping in notice of the twins. He rushed to scold and question them for their disappearance, only to be evaded. Harry chortled at the sight before glancing at Rosalie, who suddenly looked quite sour.

"Don't you ever get the urge to yank off that man's greasy white hair from his head?" He asked her. She looked up at him quizzically, as if unsure what she had just heard, and then her eyes flickered with amusement.

"I expected to see his majesty here anyways," she shrugged. "I can't decide which one of them I hate more."

Harry glanced to the twins, realizing he had forgotten about his worries thanks to the unwelcomed appearance of the Malfoys. "Where did you go?"

"Were you really with Viktor Krum?!" Ron exclaimed.

Rosalie laughed and reached to ruffle their hairs causing them to scrunch their noses. "Heavens, no! Fred and George just made that up on the spot, and now thanks to them, I'm sure the rumor will stick with me for the rest of my life. Harry, we just snuck into the Bulgarian team's tent to-"

"Wait.. you what?" Harry exclaimed in disbelief.

She nodded, grinning with pride as she handed him and Ron the jersey. "I had this in my hand when Krum suddenly walked in, so we took off running and now this is accidentally in my possession. Although the story of me hooking up with him sounds a lot more interesting. I can see all the girls back at Hogwarts envying me."

"The Girl Who Stole Krum's Jersey's legacy will never see the light because of The Girl Who Stole Krum's Heart," Harry taunted. "I can picture the Prophet headlines now."

Ron, still ogling the clothing item, chimed, "Did he see your face? How the hell did you guys get away?"

"The twins dragged me out of there before I could even blink, so I'd like to say no, he didn't. Although the look on his face was priceless if I do say so myself."

Her brother shook his head, still snickering at the thought of his mischievous older sister running away from a baffled and buff Quidditch star. It was then that Arthur waved them over to the balcony where everyone was beginning to gather. The blackboard switched from advertisements to show the team names and scores. The stadium roared to life as wizards and witches began to chant anthems and frantically wave their banners. Harry and Rosalie ran to the edge, holding onto the railing as they stared out at the vast expanse of playing field.

Ludo Bagman pressed his wand to his throat, mumbling an incantation before his voice echoed to life for all to hear. "Ladies and gentlemen, I welcome all of you to the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!"

"Let's begin by introducing the Bulgarian National Team mascot!"

Just as the twins had predicted, a hundred glamorous veelas glided onto the field, immediately snatching the breaths of everyone in the audience. Their hairs shimmered in the sun like reflective golden threads, their skin shining flawlessly as if they were porcelain dolls. Music played and their hips swayed along to the rhythm. Harry was in a daze, eyes never snatching away from the gorgeous women.

"Wipe the drool of your chin," Rose mocked. Even though he flushed brighter than a thousand rubies, his eyes remained in the magnetic pull of the veelas.

When the music stopped and the veela disappeared from sight, Harry could've leaped out of the box in protest. "Thank Merlin I let you convince me into supporting Bulgaria." At this, his sister shoved his shoulder.

"Wait until Ireland come out!" George cried. "You'll be wanting a shamrock on your chest then!"

"And now... put your wands in the air for the Ireland National Team mascots!"

Green and gold zoomed across the stadium in circles before stopping parallel to one another. A rainbow arced from one end to the other, connecting the two as the spectators marveled. The amazing display didn't last long as the rainbow faded and the green merged together, taking the shape of a shamrock. Golden rain began to pour - a closer look brought Rosalie to realize it was golden coins. People began to fish around under their seats and reach out past the railings with strong eager for the tokens.

"Leprechauns!" Arthur recognized, and surely a second closer look revealed that what Harry and Rosalie thought were balls of light were small men with red hair and pale skin, cloaked in the color of grass as they danced and tossed coins.

After an enthusiastic introduction, Bagman began to call out the names of the players individually, each one swooping in from above their heads at their cue. Half of their group cheered for the red and black, while the other whistled for those clad in green and gold. The referee stepped out onto the field as the players touched ground, clutching their Firebolts and exchanging competitive gazes as they prepared for the signal. As the Egyptian man reached for the whistle around his neck, Bagman raised a hand toward the athletes.

"Let the match begin!"


	5. The Invasion

The synchronized foot-tapping on the ground matched Fred and George's triumphant toodle-loos to classic Irish folk songs. The match had gone just as they'd predicted - not only had the Irish team won, but the Weasley twins themselves were victorious in their bet against Ludo Bagman.

"We're rich!" They chanted in chorus, only for Arthur to sigh and scratch at his forehead, staring at their bags of gold.

"You boys best not tell your mum about this... oh, Molly would be furious..."

Rosalie rolled her eyes. "Let's see if they hide it well enough this time."

Fred stopped dancing and gasped, pointing an accusing finger at her. "You're just upset Bulgaria was miserably defeated!"

She scoffed. "You two jinxed it, I promise. Krum knew he had to end the game there - Lynch could've never caught it against the world's best Seeker and the rest of his team was failing. They'll win next time."

The twins seemed unconvinced and pranced over to the eldest Potter, slinging their arms around her shoulder, only for her to huff in playful annoyance. "Oh you poor Rose, you know the teams we root for will always win!"

"What did you say?!" Ron bellowed from the boys' side of the tent, emerging from his sulking corner with his Bulgarian sweater. "You know there's no one like Krum!"

"Enlighten us, little brother!" George cried as they danced in circles mockingly.

Ron crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at them. "He's the best Seeker out of the national teams! His talent, the way he rides the wind... he's more than an athlete, he's an artist!"

Everyone laughed at his enthusiasm, followed by Ginny giving him a reassuring pat on the back. "Sure you're not in love, Ron?"

"We'll lend you some of the gold for your wedding!"

The twins circled around holding firecrackers in their hands, singing and skipping around the parameter of the tent. Arthur, looking as if he had much to say, was vanquished by the celebratory ruckus and stress and decided against trying to control his two sons. The commotion outside bounced from their walls like echos in ways worse than the redheads could accomplish; the commotion of music, laughter and chants, booming fireworks, broomsticks slapping against the crisp midnight air, the few drunk-off-their-ass wizards - there was no hope in any of them gaining sleep, despite their departure at early sunrise next morning. It would be a long night.

The crew were all buzzing, drinking hot cocoa while listening to the odd bangs of celebration outside. Arthur boasted his relief in not having clean-up duty, as the Irish wouldn't be stopped from their partying. Harry babbled to Rosalie and Hermione about how amazing it'd be to be riding the wind around the stadium one day, with national team robes, high-class broomsticks, and adoring fanbase. As much as Rose would've loved to dream as high as Harry, she was half ignoring him, focused too much on Fred and Ginny's screaming as Ron kicked George's ass in a heated wizard chess match.

"That's not fair!" He whined. "You're too good at this damn game!"

"Step it up, George!" His sister cheered on, while Ron laughed in victory, knocking off yet another one of his brother's enchanted knights off the board.

The noise outside was only growing by the moment, but now there was a new sound. Odd bangs accompanied the screams from before - were they the same screams? No one was quite sure, and only one of them had the thought to check it out.

Arthur stood up from the cushions, setting his Prophet article down to take a glimpse outside. The man didn't expect to see anything out of the ordinary, he was already aware of how festive the Irish were. Were they throwing more fireworks? Roaring the bonfire too much? Accidentally exploded a bottle of firewhiskey? None of his answers appeared to be correct - when he drew back the curtain, the sight of flames lit up his warm eyes.

Within an instant, he pulled the tent flap shut and rushed to get his wand, frantically shouting. "Kids, get up! Grab your wands, quickly!"

Everyone stopped what they were doing and obeyed, a wave of unsettling nerve and panic striking. It was then that they all became fully aware of the new sounds outside, and without question, they knew something wasn't right. "What's the matter, Mr. Weasley?" Harry asked with concern, shoving his wand in his pocket.

"There's no time to explain! We need to get out of here. Hurry up!" He rushed, trying to gather all the kids as he stepped outside. Everyone followed behind him with an uneasy stomach, wands at the clutch, elbows brushing from their close proximity. What the hell was going on?

Rosalie was the first one to land a foot outside onto the grass pitch, and her facial expression quickly twisted into that of horror. Fire was the first thing she noticed, fire swallowing up tents and belongings. Muggles were hanging in the air, levitated by magic, contorted grotesquely for the torturous entertainment of the select wizards. People ran in equal terror, doing their best to escape and save their own skins. Ministry officials seemed vanquished as they tried to escort the crowd and stop the damage.

An army of sorts marched down the narrow space in the field with torches and wands out. All of them were dressed similarly, like a repeating echo of black. They were cloaked, each concealed by a mask with intricate yet eerie designs. The way they swept the floor reminded of nothing but darkness and power. Rosalie's fear quickly morphed into hatred - she had a very good idea what she was looking at.

Arthur turned to the children behind him, waving his hand out in the direction of the swarm. "All of you, go! Run for those woods and don't come out! I'll come find you once we settle this... _stick together_!"

He took off in the direction of the Ministry workers, leaving the group alone, confused, and rather worried.

"We need to get a move on, I have a bad feeling about this," Rosalie warned, pushing everyone forward.

There was no way it was what she thought. She knew they were active, but it was nothing like this... There was no way it was them.

"Rose, what the hell is going on?" Harry called out as they all began to move, trying to push past the people to make the way to the vast array of trees further on ahead.

"Harry, just lie low," she hissed. But she couldn't help the disgust and remorse bubbling inside of her at the sight of the mess of violence and flames before her. "This is terrible..."

Ron nodded his head in agreement, trying not to pay attention to the mass destruction and rather focusing on saving himself and his friends.

They continued to run, using all their efforts to push past the blockade of witches and wizards attempting to escape. There was a riot around them of Ministry officials escorting large groups to Portkeys, others struggling to capture the cloaked individuals only to fail. Fire roared around them as if hell itself had engulfed the field. The sight was chaotic and harrowing.

The forest appeared so close, a haven of safety and a beacon of hope to their eyes for the next hour or few. Who knew how long it would be until this nightmare would end? Rosalie, still focusing on the priority at hand, glanced over to see the same platinum blonde boy from earlier targeting her, her brother, and her friends. Malfoy, I swear to Merlin if you so much as open that mouth-

Fred and George tugged on her arm, noticing her distraction, and she was yanked off beside Ginny. There was no time for petty rivalry. As much as she wanted to corner him for information (considering his father's oh-so-genuine 'fascination' with the Dark Arts), she wouldn't live to see his father, Lucius, rot in Azkaban if she died now.

As they reached the entering of the woods, the crowd of people died down. Many had taken off to Portkeys, been captured, were hiding in tents, or were still frolicking amok the fields as if movement would keep them from harm's way. They were alone, with nothing but trees to accompany them, as if even the rodents and animals of the field scurried with fright from the magical destruction.

Rosalie coughed, panting from all of the running as she tried to catch her breath. Her heart felt heavy. "I can't believe we made it, are all of you alright?"

She turned around, less delighted to find that 'all of them' accounted to only three others. Her face twisted into one of pure terror. "Where's Harry, Ron and Hermione?!"

Fred and George, also recuperating their breathing patterns, shrugged while doubled over. "N-No idea! They were behind us, I swear!"

"No, no, no, no..." Rosalie repeated in a cry, voice rising as she shook her head and pulled out her wand. "I need to go back out there and find him."

Ginny's eyes widened and she stormed up to her. "Rose, are you mad? You're not going back out there!"

"What if he was caught, Ginny?"

"He isn't, he's with Ron and Hermione. They'll find their way!"

Fred nodded. "Hermione's a smart girl, and Harry's brave enough to handle his own. We can't say much for Ron, but I'm sure they're fine."

George agreed with his brother. "I bet you they're inside the forest already. Come on, flower, calm down and we'll go looking for them."

Rosalie opened her mouth to argue again, but the Weasleys shot her a look. She bit her lip, fighting off the matriarchal concern for her brother and focused on a brighter hope of him being safe and sound. He had to be around here, right?

Their feet led them to the inner depths of the woods, where the branches made canopies and blocked most of the moonlight from the midnight above their heads. The sounds of screams, roaring fires, and running faded into nothingness from their increasing distance.

"Let's head that way," Rosalie directed to the east. "If we keep heading inwards, we might get lost, or attacked by some kind of unknown creature."

And so they marched, with no apparent path, or gleam of hope. None of them dared to speak their worries, although they all shared them. Where Arthur, Harry, Ron, and Hermione alright? Where had they gone? What about all the people left behind?

"Who do you think those people were?" Fred asked in a hush.

"Didn't seem like Bulgarian fanatics," George cracked in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Only Ginny and Fred reacted, just a snort of trapped laughter concealed too quickly to even be noticed. Rosalie sighed, chewing on the inside of her cheek. "Something tells me they were Death Eaters."

"Bite your tongue!" Ginny cried, staring at her with bewilderment. "Do you really think so?"

She nodded.

"Why do you think they pulled such a thing?" The young redhead wondered with complete disgust. "I'd go back there and show them a piece of my mind-"

Rosalie rolled her eyes. "They wouldn't be able to handle you, Ginny, would they?" And finally, everyone stifled a chuckle. I didn't last long, as her tone shifted back to cautious instantly. "I can't imagine what they want other than to create chaos and assert dominance. If those terrorists were who we think they were, Voldemort won't just be haunting us from the grave, anymore."

"Let's hope you're wrong then, flower."

As they ventured forth, crunching footsteps became audible. They halted in their steps, and the crisp leaves breaking still sounded. It wasn't any of them. As if in unison, wands found grips and breaths steadied with caution. Luckily, the figure to appear behind the trees was no one to be feared.

"Dad!" Ginny shouted, running over to him with an embrace. "I thought you were out there with the Aurors-"

"I came to find you all," Arthur answered, only to look around and notice the incomplete group. "Ron, Hermione, Harry. Where did they go?"

The group pressed their lips together, the twins flitting their eyes to the eldest Potter female as if expecting another outburst. Rosalie's heart knotted again at the mention, but she kept her determination, knowing the small shred of optimism was the only hope she had to find Harry before the dark army did. "We lost them along the way."

He frowned deeply, lines of worry matching Rosalie's creasing his forehead. "They must be in the forest by now, somewhere. We'll find them."

As they pushed further into the oaken trunk abyss, they heard the sound of running footsteps. They all jumped with hope, and the face running past them became distinguishable.

"Bagman!" Arthur called out in recognition, frantically waving his hands. "Have you seen my son, Harry, or Hermione?"

The blond man hunched over as he stopped, beads of sweat lining down his rosy cheeks surely from so much running. His eyes were blown with alarm, very new alarm at that.

"I was just... taking a leisurely stroll... had no idea what was-"

He couldn't finish his sentence before wrangling out a horrible sound from his throat at something above. The whole forest, once so silent and still from hiding witches and wizards, now roared with shrieks of fright. The group looked up to face the dreadful sight of a hazed skull with a cloud of a snake rolling through its open jaws. It seemed to peer down and billow with its own destruction over the stadium, like a vengeful devil.

The Dark Mark.

And then seconds later, the sounds of spells slamming together cracked liked lightning, taking their attention in the noise's direction. Rosalie, rather than thinking of danger and running for her life, dashed past mazes of trees toward it and gasped when she saw her brother and two friends cornered by Ministry officials.

"Harry!" She cried out with immediate relief and ran to him, pushing a salt-and-pepper bearded man out of her way and yanking him into a tight embrace. He returned it without hesitation before Rosalie pulled away to hug Ron and Hermione. "Are you okay?"

Arthur was the next one to shout, directing the remainder of the group that had fallen behind. "Stop! That's my son! What is the meaning of this"

The elder man that Rosalie shoved moments ago turned to the Weasley father, making his name known to the rest of the kids. "These three were right under the crime scene!"

"We didn't do that!" Harry proclaimed, looking up. "I don't know what that-"

"Voldemort's mark," Rosalie spat out venomously, her face scrunching in disgust. She ignored the flinch from the Ministry officials as she spoke the name."Belongs to the Death Eaters... his supporters... That's what it is, Harry." Her brother's face went cold, jaw clenching. "And the fact you're suspecting my brother for it is atrocious!"

"One of you three did it," the Ministry official continued, inching dangerously close to their faces in a threatening motion. "There's no one else around!"

"It was someone else, we swear!" Hermione cried out. "Down there!"

Twigs snapped beneath feet. They all turned to face Amos Diggory, emerging with an unconscious house elf in his arms.

Harry blinked. "Winky?"

Rosalie had no clue who the elf was, but was hit with a pang of remorse immediately upon seeing the rough way it was dragged onto the scene by Amos. She had a feeling things were not about to end well for her. Crouch's face twisted into one of shock at the sight of the creature. It didn't take long to connect two and two.

Harry gasped as he noticed what she held in her hand. "My wand! I thought I'd lost it!"

Amos looked at him with disbelief. "So you admit you dropped it after you conjured the mark-"

"Mr. Diggory, please," Rosalie jumped in, eager to protect her brother. "Look who you're talking to. Would he really conjure the mark of the man who killed his parents?"

Hermione had more to say on the matter, considering no one was vouching for the elf. "It wasn't her, either," she declared, pointing vigorously. "We heard a man!"

No matter of persuasion and pleading was crossing Mr. Diggory. His expression was stern and suspicious, willing to uncover the truth. He raised his wand to Harry's. " _Prior Incantato!_ "

And to their grand shock, a ghost of a Dark Mark spilled from the tip of the wand in a smoky silver haze. It lasted long enough for the collective group to gasp in horror, before disappearing into nothing but a wisp.

"I is not doing it!" Winky cried out, eyes welling up in fright and worry.

"Accusing my elf is accusing _me_ , Amos!" Crouch roared. "Suggesting I taught her to conjure such an atrocity!" Rosalie's lips pursed. _Now_ he wants to play defensive.

The man sulked, shaking his head as his whole face went scarlet. "I, I would never suggest you had something to do with it-"

Arthur stepped up to his friend, patting his shoulder. "There, there. Whoever cast the spell more than likely dropped Harry's wand and Disapparated, and Winky merely found it lying there. Right, Barty?"

The Head of Department exhaled sharply, giving his elf a glare that had her practically sobbing and on her knees. "I'll deal with you later. Whereabouts did you hear the sound again? Right, this way. Wands at the ready, follow me..."

The group of Ministry officials, along with the traumatized and pleading Winky, marched down the forest and fields in continuance of their search for clues or evidence on the conjuring of the Dark Mark.

Hermione furiously stomped her foot, crossing her arms. "How dare he mistreat his house elf like that?! Did you see how frightened she was, the poor thing?! How disgusting, and rude, and inhuman!"

The Potter girl couldn't say a word about the elf, for as selfish as it made her sound, all she cared about was that her brother and friends were safe. Ron, on the other hand, grumbled in protest like always.

"The only inhuman thing is the bloody snake skull above our heads, 'Mione."


End file.
